221 Lamps
by demonprincess7
Summary: Sherlock has a problem with lamps. Written for a friend and our little inside joke. I will be adding some alternate endings since I just couldn't decide on one, also because a certain someone thinks that lamp killing is a bit of a horror story.
1. 221 Lamps

John walked down the stairs and was about to head into the kitchen when he spotted something unusual. He sees a lot of unusual things in 221b, but this was new. It wasn't a human head, a bag of thumbs, or a jar of human eyes. Those are things John might have thought normal for Sherlock. It was a pile of broken shards. It looked like the shards might have once fit together into the form of a lamp. A lamp that John recognized as the lamp that belonged near the doorway.

John looked around and found Sherlock laying on the couch. He was thinking, hands folded neatly under his chin.

"Sherlock?" John asked.

"Hm?" He barely acknowledged.

"Sherlock, did you break that lamp?"

"What?" He sat up. "Oh that. Yes, I did."

"Why?"

"Got bored." He said simply as if he thought that excused it.

"Sherlock, you can't just break things because you're bored. First the wall now the lamp?"

"It's just a lamp John."

John sighed irritated and walked away to make tea. When he came back Sherlock was right back to how he had originally found him. He sat down and drank his tea wondering what could have possibly have coaxed him into breaking a lamp. It had been a while since they'd had a case. Sherlock didn't seem to have any of his experiments going on. Mycroft hadn't been by with anything for Sherlock to do. John could imagine that Sherlock would be feeling pretty bored by now.

"Doesn't it bother you?" Sherlock asked pulling John away from his thoughts.

"Sorry?"

"That I broke that lamp, does it bother you?" He sat up to look at John.

"Well I would certainly prefer that you didn't break things when you're bored. So yeah it bothers me a bit."

Sherlock went back to whatever he was thinking about and John finished his tea and left for work. They didn't talk about the lamp again for several days, but when they did, it wasn't a pleasant conversation.

John came home from work and walked up the stairs to the flat. He walked through the door to find quite a mess. Sherlock had clearly broken nineteen or twenty lamps; including the one John had bought to replace the first broken lamp, and left them shattered all over the floor.

"Sherlock!" He was sitting in his favorite chair, playing his violin. "What happened?"

Sherlock put his violin in his lap and sighed. "I broke all the lamps in the flat, obviously."

"Why?"

"I got bored John. Why else?" He started playing again, ignoring John's furious gaze.

John stomped upstairs and Sherlock didn't see him again for the rest of the night.

Upstairs in his room John had an idea. It was a bit ridiculous, but it would certainly solve their lamp problem. John called Mycroft and asked him for a rather odd favor.

* * *

1 Week Later

Sherlock had finally gotten himself a case. It wasn't a very big case, but Sherlock was looking into it after John insisted that getting out of the house would help with the boredom and that he should go, "doctor's orders". So, John was left home alone. This was very lucky for John as his plan was being initiated today. There was a knock at the door down stairs and John hurried to answer it. Mrs. Hudson was already at the door talking to the confused looking delivery man.

"John, this man says he has crates of lamps for you, two hundred of them." Mrs. Hudson looked like she didn't know if it was a joke or if the man was serious.

"Where do I sign?" John asked. The man handed him his clipboard and helped John carry all twenty very large and heavy boxes upstairs and into the living room. John smiled to himself. They wouldn't need any lamps for a long while. They put the boxes in the kitchen, stacked against the wall and out of the way. The delivery man left and John feeling quite worn out went upstairs to bed.

* * *

John woke in the middle of the night. It was very late and still dark outside. It was silent downstairs. _Sherlock must still be out_, John thought. He went down stairs intending to get himself a cup of tea hoping it would help him get back to sleep.

When he reached the living room, He thought he'd gone mad. There was broken porcelain _everywhere_. It covered the floor, there were pieces on all the furniture, and there was a spot on the wall where the paper was a bit shredded as if several lamps had been thrown at it.

In the midst of the madness, was Sherlock. He was sitting in his chair, staring at the wall near John, but not really looking.

"Sherlock?" John asked, too shocked to be angry. Sherlock's hands had several small cuts on them. There were little lamp pieces in his hair and his clothes were dusted with tiny particles.

"John." Sherlock said almost terrifyingly calm. "Two hundred lamps, John… I broke them all."

John couldn't help it, it was too much; the broken lamps, Sherlock, the blood on Sherlock's hands. He started laughing. He laughed so hard he couldn't breathe.

"John? You're laughing. Why are you laughing?" Sherlock looked concerned for a minute before he took around, and then he was laughing too.

"Sherlock, why did you break two hundred lamps?" John said once he could breathe again.

"I was _bored_ John."

"No, Sherlock, no you weren't. You had a case today. You were out all day working on it."

"It was a boring case."

"I don't think so. I think you just have some sort of lamp phobia or you just love driving me mad or-"

"John. They're just lamps."

John sighed. "Fine, Sherlock. Just lamps. Let me look at your hands at least."

"My hands are fine."

"They're bleeding and there could be glass in them."

Sherlock held out his hands for John to examine, but he pouted while he did. "See I'm perfectly fine."

John looked around the room again and sighed. "Can't wait to see you explain this one to Mrs. Hudson."

Sherlock smirked.


	2. Alternate Ending 1: Lamp-phobia

I have no explanation for any of this...

* * *

"_John." Sherlock said almost terrifyingly calm. "Two hundred lamps, John… I broke them all."_

"Sherlock? Are you alright?" John was deeply worried as he crossed the room to stand in front of Sherlock. His boots crunched on the broken glass. "Sherlock!" He snapped his fingers trying to get him to snap out of the trance-like state he was in.

Sherlock looked up at John unblinking. "So many lamps," He shuddered. "Why did have so many lamps, John?"

"Well," John rubbed the back of his neck and looked a bit confused. "it was a sort of experiment I was doing? I know that's usually you're thing, doing experiments, but I wanted to know what your problem is with lamps."

"So you decided to torture me?" Sherlock's eyes were like fire as he glared at John.

John was shocked. "Torture you? You're the one who said that they're just lamps."

"Lamps, John! Lamps!" He jumped out of his chair and strode past John to stand in the center of the destruction area. "I hate them, I fear them, they can't be here!"

"Sherlock, just calm down. Let's talk about this." If Sherlock wasn't so terrifyingly serious, John might have laughed. Sherlock was shaking and looking at the mess with wide eyes. "Maybe I should call Mycroft." John reached for his mobile where he'd left it on the table and brushed the bits of broken lamp off of it.

"No! You can't," Sherlock yelled and snatched the phone out of John's hands. He was surprisingly quick.

"Why not?" John said sternly, beginning to tire of the whole charade.

"He thinks I've gotten over it."

"Over what, exactly."

"My lamp phobia."

"You're- You… You have a lamp phobia?"

"Yes, and don't you dare mock me."

"Oh, I won't I'm just- really? Lamp-phobia. That's- that is just… wow, Sherlock."

"Shut up."

"Really though Sherlock, what is it about lamps?"

"It's a trauma. I don't want to talk about it."

"Fine, alright. Just let me look at your hands." Sherlock looked wearily at John. "You're bleeding and you could have glass in those cuts, let me see."

Sherlock had gone back to shaking and staring at the mess. He seemed to focus on the bigger pieces that still looked a bit like a lamp. John grabbed his arm and pulled him over to sit on the sofa.

"It's alright, no more lamps." He patted Sherlock's clenched and shaking hand. "We'll just have to get ceiling lights or something." He took Sherlock's hand and opened it gently. The cuts didn't look too deep, but they ought to be bandaged. The bleeding appeared to have stopped, but with the way he kept clenching his fists, it wouldn't stay that way long.

John went and found the supplies he needed to clean and bandage Sherlock's hands. He took care not hurt him any more than the lamps had. Sherlock sat there quietly and didn't even move. He just let John take care of him.

When John was finished, Sherlock leaned his head over on his shoulder. "So many lamps, John," He said quietly.

"I know, Sherlock. It's over now."


	3. Alternate Ending 2: A Study In Lamps

Alternate Ending 2: Another Experiment

"Sherlock?" John asked, both shocked and angry. Sherlock's hands had several small cuts on them. There were little lamp pieces in his hair and his clothes were dusted with tiny particles.

"John." Sherlock said almost terrifyingly calm. "Two hundred lamps, John… I broke them all."

"Sherlock! I don't know what your problem is with lamps or maybe you're just obsessed with driving me insane, but enough is enough." Sherlock blinked up at John, and then went back to staring at the wall. "Are you even listening to me?"

There were footsteps on the stair. "Are you boys having a little domestic? I thought I'd just pop up and fix us all a cup a tea since I heard you boys were up and about." When Mrs. Hudson entered the room, her eyes nearly fell right out of her head. "Sherlock! Look what you've done! Are those lamps? Did you break all of these lamps? Is this some sort of experiment?"

Sherlock couldn't help but smirk. He was in the middle of a very interesting experiment and all Mrs. Hudson cared about was the cleaning.

"Sherlock," John said irritated. "Are you going to respond to either of us or are you going to just sit there smirking all night?"

Sherlock sighed and folded his bloody hands together. He very calmly said, "They're just lamps, John."

"Just- Just lamps? _Two hundred_ lamps, Sherlock!"

"If you didn't want me to break two hundred lamps, why did you _buy_ two hundred lamps?"

"He has a point, Dr. Watson. That is an awful lot of lamps," Mrs. Hudson said.

"I thought it might solve the problem, not make it worse. This is ridiculous. Look at this mess," John said. "I didn't buy them anyway, Mycroft did."

"All the more reason to break them."

John sighed. "Fine, fine, buying two hundred lamps was stupid, I'll admit it, but _you _are the one who broke them all."

"I've been awfully bored, lately. I thought lamp breaking would be an interesting new hobby."

"Well," Mrs. Hudson said. "You had better stop breaking lamps and get all of this cleaned up, young man." She turned and walked back downstairs shaking her head.

Sherlock pulled John's laptop out from where he'd stashed it under his chair, opened it up and started typing. John's eyes narrowed and his fists clenched. "Sherlock."

"Hm?"

"This _was_ all an experiment, wasn't it?"

"Clearly."

"What for?"

"I was bored."

"What exactly was the experiment? The lamp breaking or me?"

"Both. I needed to know the various ways in which one might break a lamp using ordinary household items. I was right, it _was _the jealous sister-in-law," Sherlock said looking pleased with himself.

"So this was for a case?"

"Yes, obviously."

"What about me?"

Sherlock glanced at him over the lid of the laptop. "That was my own personal experiment."

John sighed. "You know, you're getting blood all over my keyboard."

"It's mostly dried, I wouldn't worry about it."

"I'll want to look at your hands in the morning. I'm too exhausted for it just now." John went upstairs to bed leaving Sherlock alone to type his experiments.


End file.
